


At Cosmos' End

by RivetingFabrications



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M, don't need to be a hard core trekkie to know what's going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingFabrications/pseuds/RivetingFabrications
Summary: Tim has quit Starfleet and gone rogue – the system can’t help everyone, despite its best intentions. But when he finds an olden spacecraft in the outermost reaches of space where none should be, he finds more mysteries than answers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Six finals in total and I still have one more ;_; *sheds tears I hope you enjoy the product of my procrastination.
> 
> Anyway, this is loosely set in the Star Trek Universe, so I'm using the Federation and Starfleet and maybe some other terms as a base, but I'm still sort of doing my own thing.

The fact stands that the Federation can’t help everyone, despite its noble intents and purposes. The great frontier is ever-expanding, and even with the brightest minds from every galaxy and walk of life working together to map the universe, the Federation is no exception to the lumbering footsteps of bureaucracy. Starfleet, for all intents and purpose, has an admirable goal – to travel across the cosmos to assist those in need. At the end of the day, it became a veritable Gordian knot of red tape that eventually Tim couldn’t stand. Ambassadors all with different stakes clamored to be heard, esteemed politicians bickered over the allocation of budgeting and who or which planets were fit to represent the Federation, and which planetary governments to tiptoe around to avoid intergalactic wars, all bogged the system down as more and more signed on.

Tim had eventually quit. He’d caught the next shuttle after handing in his resignation, essentially jettisoning himself off the space station of QuadraX and into the next star system before his superiors could convince him otherwise.

It’d been difficult, starting from scratch. He’d acquired the _Merida_ after twenty-two grueling hours of bargaining with the Causians, but even with the steep price eating a hole into his pockets, she was a thing of beauty, and reliable too, though she was only the first of many purchases. Despite the generous salary he’d been paid as Head Engineer of the _USS_ _Titan_ , ends had to meet, repairs had to be made, and provisions had to be bartered. Regardless, Tim was nothing if not resourceful. He missed the technology Starfleet had provided, he missed his friends and comrades in Starfleet – Conner, Bart, Cassie, and Jaime, to name a few. Yet the call was strong, and before Tim knew it, the fringes of the known galaxy had beckoned and he could only follow in its wake.

Besides, working alone had its perks.

“Red Robin,” Tim speaks into the comms, and the chirruping beeps of the droid he’d successfully cobbled together from scrap metal signal that the line is good. “Are we cleared to land?”

 _Bleep beep du bop_. Red Robin’s transmission is good to go. They’ve hidden in the midst of an asteroid field; the Merida is cloaked in Outer Rim territory near Teritan, a planet suffering an unprecedented planet-wide drought whose government often riled up the Federation with its backward policies. And while Tim is predisposed to agree with the Federation on this one, the Federation is patiently waiting for Teritan to sullenly admit that it _is_ in dire need of help while innocent Teritans are dying from starvation and drought. Tim has no intention of twiddling his thumbs while the Teritan body of government balks at bowing its head.

He pilots the _Merida_ safely down atop a drifting asteroid; even by Outer Rim sizes this one is a giant. Tim keeps the engine running as he stretches, working out the kinks in his muscles from sitting too long. It’s such a difference from working in Engineering, where something was always breaking or going off, a power grid burning out or a chemical leak somewhere. These were normal occurrences on ships as large as the _USS Titan_ , a name that Tim still thinks of fondly. Where he’s his own captain now, despite his newfound freedom he finds that the physical aspect is, ironically, somewhat diminished without having to run (or float) down never-ending corridors to put out the next chemical fire or fix the dysfunctional gravity controls.

Adjusting his mask, Tim exhales. All systems in his suit are operational, the flow of oxygen from his mask is optimal. Opening the airlock, Tim is prepared for the chill of the cosmos that manages to seep into his suit briefly before the built-in thermal functions take over. He floats out expertly; Red Robin is already working on repairs, has been even before they touched down. As much as Tim would have liked to do this somewhere that wasn’t zero gravity, Teritan is in no mood to welcome Federation-born visitors such as him. As it is, he’s already planning how to enter the Teritan atmosphere without detection.

“How are repairs coming along?” he asks into his communicator. Red Robin chirrups – one of the Merida’s wings is slightly dented, some paneling needs to be replaced, and the insulation needs to be renewed – Teritan’s atmosphere is hotter than what the _Merida_ can currently take, but if the material’s Tim’s managed to purchase is of the quality he was purportedly offered, it should work for his purposes.

“Right then,” Tim hums, cracking his knuckles within his gloves. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

~*~*~*~

Thermal sheeting is taking longer than Tim accounted for. Once again, Red Robin is diligently working long after any organic creature would have passed out, and Tim is grateful that he’d taken the time to build the droid, even if every so often Red Robin glitches. Such as now.

“ _Bleep du-boo beep_.”

“What do you mean?” Tim’s brows furrow. “There shouldn’t be anything out here. This is nearly as close to dead space as you can get. Even to get to _Teritan_ we need to enter hyperdrive.”

“ _Beeeep. Ba beep beep beeep_.”

“All right. I’m going to take a look – send me a picture of the scans. But I think we need to update your systems if you think you’re seeing what you’re scanning.” Tim jumps off one wing and uses the jet functions in his suit to power himself towards the rocky ground of the asteroid. “Keep working, all right? And if anything happens, send me an alert.”

Tim propels himself over the rocky terrain as his gloves light up with a signal – it’s the scans he’d requested from Red Robin. He opens them as a holographic three-dimensional visual. Just as Red Robin had found, there’s a massive crevice in the asteroid that leads into a shallow cave system. More importantly, within the cavern’s chambers, there’s a glowing green dot amidst the holographic blue of the scan – a lifeform.

At most it’s probably some slumbering space worm. There’s always one or two lurking in the Outer Rim, and the cavern does suggest that some worm did inhabit it at some point, or still is – but if the thermal scans that Tim swipes to next are of any indication, the temperature of the lifeform is far below that of any hibernating cosmic worm species Tim is vaguely acquainted with, and certainly smaller than any worm that could dig caverns so big.

The thermal scans _does_ suggest the lifeform is tubular in form though, Tim will give Red Robin that.

He reaches the crevasse, and it’s a tricky bit of maneuvering to leap from edge to edge. The lifeform is deeper down in the cavern, and in the pitch black, Tim doesn’t want to risk light waking it up. Assuming it _is_ slumbering, of course. He switches to night vision; from then the descent is easier but still dangerous. In his ear he can hear the low hum of Red Robin still working. In the silence of space, the thrum of vibration is a friendly comfort.

Several clicks later, he reaches the maw of the actual cavern – it is even more enormous than Tim had realized, seeing it in person. The entrance is cold and gaping, but through the green lenses of night vision lenses, it is even eerier. Still, Tim steels himself, one hand on the blaster settled on his hip at all times.

While Tim does go quicker than he normally would thanks to the lack of gravity, the downward descent is steeper if less rocky than the actual crevasse. Eventually, the incline levels off until Tim approaches the chamber where Red Robin’s scans indicate is the lifeform.

What he sees makes his jaw drop.

“Red Robin, sending visual.” Tim licks his dry lips. Right at the very mouth of the cavern is an honest to god _spacecraft_. The design is one he immediately recognizes – it’s a basic Earth spaceship, but none of that makes _sense_. The design, if Tim’s estimate is right, should date back to when space travel was still considered virtually impossible for Earth, centuries before it joined the masses of the Federation.

He squints through the lenses, yelping when he steps in something sticky.

“Ok, that’s just _gross_.” Tim grimaces as he steps in slime. Now that he’s closer, he can see the carcass of the worm that had once inhabited the asteroid – the spaceship had crushed it where it landed. Powering on the jets in his suit, Tim frees himself from the slime, flying up to survey the ship. It doesn’t quite completely block off the entire mouth of the chamber, allowing Tim to float about and take pictures to capture the entire thing.

“NASA,” Tim murmurs, immediately recognizing the ancient Earth words emblazoned near the root of the spacecraft. All else is largely incomprehensible. “Perhaps our knowledge of old Earth history is all wrong. Still, there’s no way Earth technology was able to go to Outer Rim at the time you were built. So, _how_ did you get here?

He circles the spacecraft, looking for a way to get in. Impatient, he lands atop the craft, finding the sealed door blocking his way.

“Sorry about this,” he remarks aloud. He’s expecting some kind of extraterrestrial hermit to now emerge and shout at him about breaking and entering, but at this point, Tim doesn’t really know _what_ to anticipate. His tool pouch is on hand, thankfully – he finds the laser he’d been using to cut the thermal sheeting, on edge as he starts burning through the metal. It doesn’t take long, and Tim easily cuts himself a hole to slip through. From there, he descends into the complete darkness of the spacecraft.

His suit beeps twice once he’s gone through the airlock – the cabin hasn’t remained pressurized, and Tim keeps his suit feeding him oxygen as he surveys the interior.

“This is literal history I’m standing in,” he wonders aloud. The spacecraft is mostly flotsam at this point, and Tim continues taking pictures as he explores. The technology is absolutely jaded and obsolete. He makes a note to see if he can take anything from the systems of this ship maybe a log, or a captain’s diary, but even if he did, he doubts he has anything that would be compatible to read the data.

He continues his search – there’s still no sign of the lifeform as he passes through the different rooms that look like no creature has stepped here in millennia. His feet kick up asteroid dust that he hopes doesn’t jam his systems.  

Finally, the last room that Tim comes to is sealed. Once again, Tim has to burn through the door with his laser, and it takes time, much to Tim’s frustration. Upon entering, Tim squints through the murky blackness, but this time it’s easier to see through the night vision lenses – there’s a light source somewhere.

Tim’s hand knock against something hard; he stumbles hard, grunting as he trips over something on the floor. He falls over a curved surface, relieved when the lack of gravity saves him from nearly smashing his head into the floor and possibly damaging his mask. He twists in midair and, with some effort, successfully lands on his feet.

The object he tripped on looks a bit like a carapace. But through the night vision, there’s a pinhole of light filtering through, indicating that whatever it is, it’s hooked on and the electrical system is feeding energy to it by nothing short of a miracle.

“Get a load of this, Red Robin,” Tim says, sending another visual to the droid. “Guess you don’t need your systems rebooted after all.” He stoops down, wiping the layers of asteroid dust from it. It doesn’t really make sense why there’s dust – but if Tim can guess, if the spacecraft had crashed here, though externally it doesn’t exactly look like it had a full-on collision, the result of the dust from the explosion settling would be this. Still, only more questions arise, and no answers come.

“A little anachronistic for you to be hanging out here, don’t you think?” he murmurs, once he’s cleared away the dust for him to realize it’s a cryopod – an early one of course, but he’s shocked that it’s still running. Still, it’s somehow compatible with the ship’s systems, and that in itself is another mystery.

“Now, what do you have in here?” he mutters, shining his suit’s flashlight over the cryopod’s reflective surface. He raises the brightness and pales. 

_Oh, god._

“Red Robin, tell me I’m not seeing things,” Tim croaks. The reflective surface gives way to a slightly tinted window that Tim can just barely manage to see through. “Identify. Use the facial recognition algorithms I downloaded for you. Is the resolution clear enough?”

 _Bleep beep._ Red Robin’s whirring gets louder. Tim fidgets impatiently as the droid’s processes scan through the last image Tim sent. Finally, the audio in Tim's earpiece comes to life, a mechanical voice reading the results aloud to Tim.

“Identity: Jason Peter Todd. Admiral Bruce Wayne’s deceased son.”


	2. A Cryopod Darkly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs soooo this chapter would have been out sooner if it were not for Steam summer sales. Hollow Knight is a great game and I recommend y’all get it while it’s on discount :D That being said, enjoy the new chapter! Thanks for all you lovelies who commented, you guys really inspired me to get on it!

Jason Peter Todd was a post-death household name. Earth had wept at the word of his passing, Starfleet honoring him with a fleeting vigil at a newly erected statue of him and a moment of silence. To the public, he had been a boy with a troubled past who had excelled at his studies, on his way to completing Starfleet’s command track. Tim had seen him once, a passing glimpse on large screen cameras leagues of people away as Dick Grayson had accepted his nomination for the _USS Nightwing’s_ captaincy, hugging his younger adoptive brother tightly.

Yet as Tim made his way back down the tricky cliff of the asteroid once more with Red Robin in tow, his mind buzzed with activity. The _Merida’s_ database only contained Starfleet records (and yes, Tim could admit to himself he had been paranoid enough to actually duplicate the USS Titan’s database) prior to the date of his resignation. That being said, it was no surprise that the scanner had matched the facial scan to an ex-member of Starfleet.

Despite strides in facial recognition software, there was still room for a plethora of possible errors. As Tim took a secondary look at the visual he had sent Red Robin, it was a wonder that the droid had managed to make _any_ identification whatsoever. The cryopod window that allowed Tim to peek inside was tinted borderline opaque. Coupled with the harsh glare from the camera flash and the reflection of Tim’s mask against the window’s surface, Tim wasn’t so sure it was truly _the_ Jason Todd.

Red Robin had some difficulty navigating the steep descent due to the rough terrain and the medium-sized auxiliary generator Tim roped to it, but together, Red Robin and Tim reenter the cave. The trek down still seems ominous, somehow, but Tim is comforted by the unerring presence of the droid.

“Got the vials?” asks Tim after some length of time; they’ve passed the mouth of the entrance. It’s easier now that he’s been here once already. Though Tim had contemplated flying the _Merida_ into the cave to pick up the cryopod, he had ultimately decided against it, afraid of possibly damaging the spacecraft and tearing the thermal sheeting they had so painstakingly replaced.

 _Beep_. Red Robin touches down against the floor of the cave, a small compartment in its front opening to reveal the case of sterile red-topped test tubes for samples. When they’re finally in view of the spaceship, Tim tears open the plastic encasing the vials, scooping up some of the cosmic worm’s gooey remains in one and capping it neatly. If his theory is correct and the spaceship had indeed somehow landed on the worm and killed it, he can date the organic matter to see how far back it goes. The _Merida_ sadly doesn’t have the equipment for that, but he doesn’t have friends in Starfleet for nothing, and many of them owe him a few favors.

While the mysterious spaceship is damaged and old, Tim can’t discern any identifiable tracks or rifts in the rocks the archaic space shuttle might have left as it tumbled into the mouth of the asteroid cave and into its lower chamber. Still, it wasn’t as if asteroids weren’t known for colliding into each other and thus eroding the terrain, and how the spacecraft found its way into the outer depths of space and into this very asteroid is only yet another mystery Tim will have to ponder later as he tries to solve the more immediate problem of getting the cryopod onto his ship undamaged.

Once again, he wishes he were with the _USS Titan_ once more, a starship boasting the capabilities of transporting the entire ancient spacecraft for analysis and the medical facilities for ensuring that the cryopod could be safely opened while keeping its occupant alive. The _Merida_ did have a medbay, once, but Tim had largely turned it into another storage room. The actual ‘medbay’, if one could loosely call it that, would probably be his sleeping quarters where Tim patched himself up after rough missions. After all, when you were the only organic crewmember of a spacecraft, there wasn’t much use for keeping a healthy stock of medical supplies.

“Red Robin?” Tim calls again, and the droid issues a series of bleeps as it takes the vial of worm gunk for safekeeping, placing it in a chilled compartment within its side. They enter the space shuttle, Red Robin chirping excitedly as Tim plods behind carefully.

 _Beep du-beep._ The droid scans the rooms, red light filtering eerily through the abandoned spacecraft.

“Huh, you’re right.” Tim leaps up, lack of gravity propelling him up to scrutinize the ceiling panels. “There’s no obvious damage to the inside from the outside or any tears in the metal.” Still, in the dim lighting, it’s hard to really say. The mess of cables and wires lay abandoned in the darkness, wreckage strewn about the floor.

“No signs of other possible crewmembers or signs of living in here,” murmurs Tim. A shuttle like this needed a team of probably at least five to operate, by Tim’s estimate. “Red, go see if you can find any old astronaut suits? There ought to be some around. And, if not…”

The best working theory he has is that the cryopod isn’t anywhere near half as old as the ship; this raised the possibility that someone had placed ‘Jason’ here to hide him. But from what? Tim couldn’t say. The cryopod was unlike anything Tim has seen before, still too old and archaic to probably be from this century.

He honestly doesn’t know, and as Red Robin wanders off to fulfill his request, Tim finds himself utterly bewildered, beset with an anxious excitement twisting his stomach into knots. He entertains the thought that maybe the man himself in the cryopod had put himself in there; it’s certainly feasible, if the cabin had remained pressurized during that time for him to clamber inside.

He tries his best not to use the name Jason; it _might_ not be the deceased son of Starfleet’s most decorated admiral as he keeps reminding himself. Out of the thousands of inhabitants in the vast realms of outer space, even if Tim isolated the unique facial structure of _Homo sapiens_ , there were several techniques for deceiving facial recognition software, and Tim was well-versed in many of them.

He takes a breath as he squeezes through the hole he had made earlier to get into the final room where the carapace-like cryopod is. It’s still just as dark and eerie as it had been before, but Red Robin chirps once more in his ear worriedly, radio static coming to life in his ear.

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” mutters Tim distractedly. “This place gives me the creeps, of course my vitals are elevated. And yeah, the door was –” Tim stops in his tracks, coming to a realization.

“Oh my god, you’re right.” Tim swallows thickly. “The door _was_ sealed before I broke through.” His gloves light up with a visual from Red Robin; he taps his wrist to bring it up.

It’s a photo, decent quality albeit black and white. Through the infrared green of his lenses, Tim gnaws his lower lip as he studies the image.

“Three space suits, but enough wall hooks for six,” he murmurs. “Just what exactly happened here?” The astronaut suits are clunky, faded white and dull, and they sport the NASA symbol against their right shoulder and the chest.

“We’re taking one with us,” Tim says decisively. “With a discovery like this, we’re going to need as much proof as we can get. Red, come to where I am so I can figure out how we’re going to transport this cryopod.” Contemplating for a moment longer, Tim rummages in his suit before he finds a spare tracker, metallic yellow-black and no bigger than his thumb. He affixes the small disc onto the underside of one of the consoles in the room before pressing the center; it flashes twice. It’s a pity the _Merida_ didn’t have the capabilities of transporting a ship this massive, Tim thinks ruefully, but there’s nothing for it. He’ll have to contact someone in Starfleet to conduct a more thorough investigation instead, and this way he can send the coordinates to someone.

 _Bleep bu-doo beeeep_. Red Robin chirps behind him, announcing its return.

“Yeah? So, here’s the plan…” Tim briefly outlines the rough sketch for the best way to get the cryopod off the ship’s energy supply without interrupting the oxygen flow; Red Robin chimes in with other possible alternative. Kneeling down, Tim studies the cryopod carefully. He doesn’t recognize the model or the type, and while he can’t turn the cryopod over since it’s bolted to the floor to prevent it from floating around in zero gravity, he doesn’t immediately see any serial number or company logo either.

“You’d think a smart company would have their brand on their products so that someone could at least have a clue of _where_ to contact their tech support,” quips Tim, more to himself than Red Robin. “And with something so complex like this, I’m pretty sure you’d need tech support. Hand me a wrench?”

The first two bolts nailing the cryopod down are easy enough; they come out without too much effort. The next ones suffer from low levels of corrosion and Tim has to work for them to come out, grunting with exertion as he forcibly removes them from their grooves. He leaves the central metal band surrounding the cryopod alone for now, more interested in one of the smaller compartments.

“Red, screwdriver.” He opens the slim black panel easily; immediately met with a mess of wires. There’s some writing he doesn’t comprehend on the back of the lid, but there’s a universal caution sign that tells him it’s exactly what he’s looking for. Someone once told Tim he spent too much time in places he’s not meant to be, but as Tim had argued back, that was a matter of perspective.

This was exactly where he needed to be.

There’s a mess of circuitry inside the panel, and Tim squints at the tangle of external wires haphazardly coiled about the cryopod and hooked into the walls like a nest of snakes. Nothing’s labeled and frankly, such poor cable management has always vexed him. The fact that the colors of the wires inside the cryopod are distorted through the infrared green of his mask vision makes this even more difficult.

It’s going to be a long job, and when Tim analyzes the sockets in the walls of the space shutter, he’s further reminded that it’s going to be a tedious and delicate job of hooking the cryopod onto Red’s auxiliary generator.

“This sucks,” Tim announces. Red Robin helpfully agrees with him, as Tim programmed him to do when Tim isn’t actually saying anything of useful merit. Painstakingly, with Red helpfully telling him which wires are what colors, Tim manages to decipher the mess of circuitry, ripping out a large chunk of the cryopod’s metallic shell until it looks like the broken shell of some insect that had newly emerged. Jason – or whoever it might be – sleeps peacefully, undisturbed despite the mess and the noise Tim is making as he painstakingly remaps the old technology while it’s still running.

There are a few moments when Tim nearly panics – when the dim lights on the side of the cryopod flash warningly – before his Starfleet training kicks in and he pauses in the procedure to retrace his steps calmly. At long last, after several grueling hours, fancy wire stripping, rewiring and a lot of cursing, Tim blinks blearily to scrutinize his handiwork. Red Robin is still holding the generator, but now the cryopod is attached to it and running without a hitch, though there’s a mess of wires falling out that Tim needs to lash to the cryopod so that it’s not a tripping hazard.

“I’m done!” He crows his victory before slumping against the wall.

 _Bleep_!

“Oh, buzz off,” mutters Tim. “Give me a break before we start the climb back, I’m not all batteries like you.”

_Beep da-ba beep._

“Crap, how much battery do you have left?”

 _Beeeeeeep_.

Tim buries his head in his hands. “Eleven percent? God, are you kidding me? I know the generator’s heavy, but lifting it shouldn’t take _that_ much energy –”

_Beeeeeep. Beep beep bu-du-ba bleeeeep._

Tim groans. “Fine, fine, you don’t have to tell me again. Yes, I _know_ I should have built a function for you to be able to still move while plugged into the generator, but _we were on a budget_. I’m not made of money!”

_Bleee-eeep._

Tim whimpers. The cryopod isn’t hard to carry, thanks to zero gravity, but it’s still large and lumbering, and Tim really wishes he’d remembered to account for the fact that Red Robin had been diligently working on sheeting the _Merida_ earlier.

It’s going to be a long climb home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it's a bad day I imagine Red Robin is just swearing at Tim all the time and Tim just takes it all in stride.


	3. Skywards

It’s an effort to half float and half carry the cryopod up through the chambers of the cavern. In any normal situation, the slope would have been negligible, but with droid, a cryopod, and a massive generator in tow, the trek is slow going. Red Robin is hurrying diligently as well as it can, but Tim doesn’t want to take any chances in disrupting the cryopod’s functions and possibly damaging the oxygen supply. Asteroid gravel crunches under his feet as Tim pauses to catch his breath.

“How’re you doing, Red?” he asks.

_Bleep_. Tim grimaces. Nine percent. It just might be enough. If Tim can make it over the ledge of the crevasse, he could return to the _Merida_ by himself to fly it back to Red and the cryopod for pickup.  However, they’re nowhere near the mouth of the cavern, and he doesn’t know if Red Robin has enough power to fly both itself and the generator all the way up to the top. His biggest worry is that Red Robin failed in the middle of ascent. If that did happen, Tim doesn’t think he’ll be able to transport both generator and cryopod on his own.

“Shut off all unnecessary functions if you haven’t already,” orders Tim, chest heaving. “We’re nearly at the entrance.” He powers the jetpack back on to propel himself forward. However, he remains careful about pulling too far ahead of Red Robin lest he disconnect the cables between the cryopod and the generator. Red Robin hums as it switches to manual. Tim _had_ included a small capacitator within Red Robin’s systems to store kinetic energy as a backup power source, but that had been a work in progress that Tim had pushed back to complete another day. He’s regretting that choice now, but he can only forge onwards.

It’s probably at most only a few minutes when they reach the cavern’s mouth, but with Tim’s worries racking up, it feels like half an hour. He groans, rotating his neck to work the stiffness from the muscle as he cranes his neck upwards. From the bottom of the crevice, space is dark and lonely but also beautiful, a strip of twinkling stars occasionally interrupted by a passing asteroid. There’s a particularly bright one in the distance, and Tim can’t help a soft smile.

“That’s where we’re heading next,” he tells Red Robin. The droid doesn’t respond to the mundane comment, conserving energy for the impending sharp ascent. “Teritan. I hope we’re not too late,” he murmurs. “It took us two months to come all this way.” Not including the additional time to prepare his cargo – grain from the planet Robtuissin genetically modified to weather the harsh, scalding conditions of Teritan. Every hold of the _Merida_ was filled to the brim with crates of the grain, along with seedlings that were being carefully cultured in one section of the ship. Tim had little to no green thumb, but as the rather eccentric botanist whom he’d procured the seeds and plants from had huffily told him, ‘well, boy, if my darlings can weather one hundred degree weather with nearly no water, they can certainly handle a novice like you as long as you don’t disrupt the humidity controller.’ And so far, Isley had been right, even if Tim had been wary of trusting an ex-scientist with a checkered past.

From the last report Tim had heard from Teritan, similar like-minded individuals like himself had been performing airdrops of food to the people of Teritan, and the people themselves had organized to make the best of it. However, as Tim had calculated, there were only so many resources that could be transported to all the affected regions. Yet in the interim while supplies lasted, if Tim could convince the people to grow the crops he was bringing, hopefully it would be what the people needed to become more self-sufficient since the drought was predicted to last for several Teritan years.

“Ready to go?” Tim asks. Red Robin activates its wings in response. They’re really more for gliding if Tim is honest, but as the droid’s jet systems power on, Red Robin can use them as stabilizers for balance.

Seven percent. Red Robin ascends sharply with a short burst of power as Tim does the same.

“Just use the jets as needed,” demands Tim. Newton’s First law had to be good for something, right? He lets the force propel them upwards, and only when the asteroid’s weak gravity threatens to tug them back down do they use the jet functions in short, pulsing intervals. Tim’s grip on the cryopod falters briefly – he clumsily readjusts his hold as they sail up the craggy sides of the abyss. The vertical cliff face seems like a never-ending road as they fly, skimming its surface as they soar towards the stars and home.

“How are you doing on battery?”

He receives a quiet, meek _beep_ in response. Three percent left. Tim grits his teeth. He can already sense Red Robin’s jet functions weakening as the droid struggles to ration its remaining battery life.

“C’mon, don’t die on me,” breathes Tim. “We’re almost there.”

It takes two more bursts when Red Robin utters a warning sequence of _bleeps_ and _badda-beeps_ – it’s powering down in sixty seconds. In desperation, Tim clumsily hefts the cryopod into a precarious balance on his shoulder, gripping the generator as best as he can in his other hand. His muscles complain, protesting at the awkward grip he has on both objects.

“Here goes nothing,” Tim mutters, and guns his jet functions.

He propels himself as fast as he dares towards the top, Red Robin in tow with the generator fixed to it. The cryopod nearly falls from his grip, and how Tim manages to keep it in his grasp is nothing short of a miracle.

A sharp whoop bursts from Tim’s lips as they soar above the cliff edge. Tim’s jet functions power down as his boots crunch against asteroid dust. Red Robin touches the gravel and immediately shuts down, shuddering as its wings fold back in. The cryopod slips from Tim’s shoulder, but he lets go of the generator to catch it, placing it into a safer position on the ground. Catching his breath, Tim surveys his two sleeping companions fondly.

“I’ll be back,” Tim breaths, wanting to wipe the sweat from his brow under his mask. The _Merida_ isn’t far, and with the low adrenalin rush still pumping in his veins, Tim feels rejuvenated. “We’re gonna get home, promise.”

~*~*~*~*~

Tim spins in his chair idly as he taps his console. Red Robin is charging, hooked up to its customary charging station. Tim had finally managed to reconnect Jason’s cryopod from the auxillary generator to the ships’ main systems, and when he had rechecked the generator, he was alarmed to see just how much energy the cryopod had consumed. It made sense, given that it was borderline decrepit technology and hardly efficient, but for it to have survived on the old space shuttle for so long…

“It looked like most of the ship was dead,” mused Tim, tapping his console idly. “But obviously there was a power supply…unless there was a power source that wasn’t connected to the mainframe?” It was hard to say. It didn’t look like the cryopod itself had any functions for generating its own energy to run though that would bear more investigation for another time.

“Power,” hums Tim. “Always comes back to that.” Between Red Robin nearly running out of juice at an inopportune moment and making sure the cryopod didn’t shut down, Tim makes a mental note to see about upgrading his systems. They’re far from the nearest starport, but if they make a detour after Teritan it might not be too much of a problem. Tim needs to get fresh supplies soon anyway, though whether he has enough credits is another story.

An excellent power supply and credits, the two universal needs for space travel. Sadly, credits were hard to come by when you were exhausting personal funds on a one-man mission. Tim grumbles a little as the _Merida_ finishes running a scan of the records Tim had copied from Starfleet. There’s only two things that pop up per his search.

He clicks on the first one – it’s a scan of an old news article, dated back some time ago. But it’s nothing he hadn’t known already. Emblazoned across the headlines are the words STARFLEET CADET SLAIN IN FREAK ACCIDENT.

That was what the press had been told, and the media had eaten it up like buzzards with carrion. However, those in the upper echelons of Starfleet knew the truth. Tim tapped the next item on his search – this one was far more relevant. Inside the file was Jason’s old cadet information. Tim is slightly surprised that Jason’s info was in his database, but then he remembers that Jason Todd _had_ served briefly on the USS Titan. It makes sense. Tim skims through it, but there’s nothing particularly of note. He’ll have to dig deeper.

Tim hums tunelessly as he opens up the Starfleet homepage. He’s tired, and there’s nothing more than he’d like than to simply pass out in his bed, but sheer determination powers him on as he attempts to log-in using his old credentials. As expected, he’s denied access. Regardless, Tim hadn’t become the Titan’s youngest Head Engineer for nothing, and he sets about finding a way in. He’s fully immersed in his work when suddenly a notification lights his screen up. He yelps a little, concentration broken as his eyes widen a little at the name displayed across the screen. He chews his lip a little, contemplating ignoring the call – but he’s been caught anyway, and postponing the inevitable will only worsen what’s presumably a chewing out. The ring becomes persistently louder. With a resigned sigh, he opens a communications channel.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” The familiar voice is ripe with amusement as the screen flickers on. “So I see you’re trying to get past my firewall.”

Tim smiles abashedly, twirling his stylus. “Well, thought I’d test your computer skills, see if you’re getting rusty, you know? You're looking well, Babs.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Tim.” Babs rolls her eyes affectionately. “First thing I hear from you in ages and it’s you trying to hack Starfleet. Nice try. Though I thought you’d be wearing command gold or something, seeing as you’re your own captain now.” She nods at Tim’s red shirt.

Tim laughs. “Don’t think gold’s very much my color,” he admits. Babs hums in agreement.

“No kidding. Red definitely suits you better. Well, are you missing Starfleet yet? You know we’d love to have you back.”

Tim sighs wistfully. “A little bit.” Definitely more than a little bit, if he’s being honest.

“Just enough to try and hack into the mainframe, hm?”  Babs smirks at him devilishly.

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” huffs Tim. “But yeah, I actually have something Starfleet might be interested in.”

“Hmm.” Babs considers him through her glasses. She looks tired, dressed in loose and comfortable clothing instead of the Starfleet uniform. She’s sitting in her quarters, and Tim feels bad that he probably disrupted her downtime. “What is it?”

“There’s something I want you to look into, near the Outer Rim. There’s a shuttlewreck here; I was wondering if it’s possible for anyone to retrieve the wreckage.”

“Send me the coordinates?” Tim taps a few buttons on his console, forwarding it to her. He can sort of see the pixelated reflection of the map through the lens of her glasses as she scrutinizes it.

“Not sure if we can, Tim. It’s a bit too close to Teritan. But we do have a research ship relatively close by that might be able to do the job.” She looks at Tim closely. “You _know_ you’re technically not supposed to be hanging around Teritan, right?”

Tim shrugs. “I’m not really Starfleet anymore,” he points out.

“Fair enough. But be smart and don’t get into too much trouble, all right?” She looks at him sternly.

“Yessir.” He pops off a salute, and Barbara rolls her eyes affectionately. She still seems to be in a good mood though, and Tim works up the courage to ask, “Also…could I ask a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“I have some cosmic worm slime I want to carbon date. D’you think it’s okay to ship it over to Starfleet labs to analyze?”

“Sure, though that’s not really my area of expertise. I can forward you the address to deliver it to, though.”

Tim breathes a sigh of relief. That's one less thing to worry about on his plate. “You’re a lifesaver, Babs.”

“Naturally.” She smiles at him amicably.

“How have things been in Starfleet?” Tim presses, trying to find other topics to carry the conversation. Babs doesn't work on the same ship as most of his friends and ex-coworkers, but every so often she drops the occasional juicy tidbit about how life at Starfleet was carrying on without him.

“Honestly?” she yawns. “Hectic. There’s been some crazy stuff going on.”

“Such as?”

“I can’t give you the full story since most of it is classified stuff, but let’s just say it’s got some of the higher-ups in a tizzy.”

“Sounds bad.”

“It’ll probably get resolved soon,” admits Barbara. “Might have just been a false alarm; most of this stuff is. Fingers crossed.”

“Good luck. Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“That’s Starfleet for you.”

“How are you otherwise?” probes Tim cautiously.

Barbara smiles, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it this time. “Well, it could be better,” she admits honestly. “I just got back from being planetside; wasn’t much of a vacation though – all of it was Starfleet politics. Got to visit home and all that though, so that was a very much needed change of pace.”

“Yeah? Do anything nice?”

She sighs. “Not really. Yesterday was…well. It was Jason’s birthday. Paid my respects and all that.”

Oh. Tim winces. He hadn’t realized that time had been moving so quickly back on Earth. He contemplates telling her about his discovery, but he doesn’t want to give any false hope.

“Speaking of which,” he says, carefully keeping his voice neutral, “what was he like? I never got the opportunity to meet him.”

“He was a cute kid,” sighs Barbara. “Chip off his shoulder, had some issues with authority, but he wasn’t bad. Just…lost, I suppose. I was busy with the Oracle project back then, so I didn’t see much of him after he entered Starfleet. I regret not being there for him though – I think he didn’t have much of a support system with his peers.”

Tim mentally files those snippets of information away for later. “I wouldn’t blame yourself,” he advises. “Actually, how is the Oracle system coming along?”

“We’re going online in a matter of weeks.”

“That’s amazing!” Tim is impressed. “Congratulations.”

She laughs, recovering from her earlier somberness. “Thanks, kiddo. Still some things we need to tweak, but it’s coming together.”

“Can I ask for one last favor?”

“You’re going to owe me a load of favors.” Barbara mock huffs. “You’ve got some nerve, Tim. First you don’t call for ages, and then you reappear by trying to hack the firewall with a list of demands? For shame.”

“Sorry,” Tim says sheepishly. “But I was wondering if you could forward me a list of cryogenic facilities within the star system I’m in.”

Barbara crooks an eyebrow. “You’re asking for a lot of odd things today. You’re going to tell me what this is all about, right?”

“If you send a ship to the coordinates I sent you, I definitely will.”

“You’re a tough haggler.” Babs sighs dramatically. “I see how you managed to get a Causian to part with his ship now.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Babs waves a hand flippantly. “That all?”

“Yep. Sorry for all the requests.”

“I’ll have you repay them in full eventually.” Barbara winks. “Come visit the next time we’re in the same star map.”

“I’ll try.”

“Not good enough.” Babs’ eyes bore into him. “You owe me favors, remember?”

“I’ll show you that Earth teacake place I found in the middle of the Ruthgort Starport,” offers Tim. Barbara’s eyes gleam with interest.

“That inordinately fancy place for fabulously rich schmucks?”

“One and the same.”

“Deal, kid.” Barbara waves at him. “It’s almost time for my shift; I gotta get going. Call sometime, okay?”

“Promise.” Tim waves. The channel closes, and Tim stretches out and yawns hugely.

He feels even more exhausted now, but he glances back at where Red Robin is still charging. Once Red Robin’s at seventy percent, the droid can take the helm, and Tim can pass out for a blissful sleep. Until then….Tim guns the motors, the familiar thrum of the Merida purring to life a comforting vibration as her wings fold out for takeoff.

“Set a course for Teritan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Real life has been pretty hectic D:


	4. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aliveeeeee.

It's been a long time since Tim dreamed this vividly. The dark clouds obscure the stars as he gazes skywards from his vantage point on a skyscraper ledge. The planet's stratosphere seems denser than what he's grown accustomed to and he opts to look down instead. The traffic buzzes beneath him with an iron gleam of red and green and yellow lights. In his midst, the buildings shine like polished black glass, intimidating as they rise from the misty ground below.

He's more homesick than he thought he was. To his left is another tall office building, its neon white lights spelling WAYNE with crystal clarity. Gotham hasn't changed at all, he thinks with wonder. The bay bridge is visible across the skyline, a beautiful criss-cross ironwork lattice of silver lights. All across the landscape, the city gleams darkly with life.

"Don't you think it's beautiful?" Tim turns to look at his companion, and for some reason it's not strange at all when Dick Grayson smiles at him, dressed in standard Starfleet uniform. "Sometimes it's nice to see home every once in awhile."

"It is." The clouds crawl overhead as Tim sucks in a breath. For a moment they appreciate the misty quiet of Gotham's skyline, the bustle of downtown traffic distant but comforting all at the same time. A fresh wave of homesickness washes over him as Tim struggles with his words. "It's been awhile," he says finally. Dick had always been good to him, but he was good to everyone. Tim liked to sometimes think Starfleet's golden boy had a soft spot for him, possibly through their shared mentor or being fellow Gothamites. However, between their different core modules and eventually being assigned to different ships, Tim didn't know Dick Grayson half as well as he would have liked.

"A couple years on Jupiter, maybe?" jokes Dick. "Why'd you leave Starfleet? You know, you would have made a great captain, we all kept telling you that."

"Maybe." Tim looks away, back to Gotham's looming horizon. It's easier to look at than Dick's questioning, earnest gaze. "It wasn't that I didn't want it. It wasn't that I didn't think I could do command track, either, or even that I preferred engineering over it."

"Then why?"

"I..." Tim trails off. "I was just needed," he says simply. "People needed me. Still need me." The conversation trails into silence. The heavens split down its seams, revealing the brightly eerie moon against its dull backdrop. The city lights flicker out. The bay bridge flashes once, twice, and into blackness. Billboard signs sputter out with a fizz of electricity as the streetlights die one after another, plunging streets into a wave of blackness that swallows vehicle and building lights alike. As man-made illumination winks out, the sky shines even brighter, no longer flooded by the spill of light pollution. The last sparks to go are the daunting lights of _WAYNE_. The _W_ fights for life until it too is extinguished in a silent crackle.

"Starfleet needs you too."

"Starfleet has the brightest minds in the galaxy. It doesn't need me."

" _Tim_." Dick's voice takes on a hint of aggravation. "You are one of the smartest people I know, and that is saying a lot. Bruce doesn't hand out recommendations like candy. You _earned_ that recommendation for command track, and I know you wanted it. So why?"

_But did I, though?_ The self-doubt makes Tim question his motives. "I could give you a hundred names of candidates that would be just as qualified, if not more so. Donna. Kaldur. Karen Beecher-"

"That's not the point." Dick gentles his voice. "Did Bruce recommend any of them? No. He picked _you_. Come back, Tim."

"I do want to. I just..." Tim fades off. "There are things I have to do."

"I get it, you know. Sometimes things don't work out. People come and go all the time, or they decide on a different career path. But you leaving was a shock to everyone. Was Starfleet holding you back?" Dick probes.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Tim rakes a hand through his hair. "Just as there were things that I could achieve only within Starfleet, there are also things I'm achieving right now that I couldn't have if I had stayed. I think I'm making a difference, Dick." He wonders which one of them he's trying to convince.

"I got you." Dick holds his hand palm up placatingly. "I understand. Just know we've always got your back, okay? You're going to do greater things than you already have. And...you'll always have a place in Starfleet, if you ever need it."

"Ok." Tim smiles weakly at him. "Got it."

"We're brothers in stars, okay?" teases Dick. "So let me know if you ever need any help."

"In stars? What does that even mean?"

"Well you know, brothers in blood, brothers in arms...brothers in stars, right? All of us at Starfleet."

"You're a dork." Tim doesn't say he sort of likes the sound of it, instead showing it through his wry expression. Dick rolls his eyes and ruffles his hair affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah. Just...be careful, okay? Don't do anything dumb."

"No promises."

"Look, just follow common sense, right? Don't go wandering into zones you might get shot at, don't go somewhere not under the jurisdiction of the Federation, don't gamble, don't go wandering into suspicious spaceships that have sketchy cryopods..." Dick trails off, horrified when he sees Tim's obvious discomfort. "Oh my god, how many of those did you already commit?"

"Wait, Dick." Tim fumbles for his words again. "There's something important I need to tell you." He fidgets nervously with anticipation, nerves chattering with a buzzing delight as he wonders how Dick will react. "Jason. He's alive. I found him out in deadspace. Dick, your brother is _alive_ -" Beaming, Tim steps forward excitedly, chancing a glance upwards to see what Dick's expression would be.

Dick's face twists with pain, his expression nothing short of crushed and heartbroken. Tim stops in mid step, his joy sputtering out as if doused by freezing water.

"Don't say that, Tim." says Dick with the quiet force of years of hurt and regret behind his words. "He _died_. I went to his funeral, Tim. Watched them lower him into the ground. Don't joke around like that. How could he possibly have been in dead space?"

Tim swallows thickly. "I wasn't jok-"

" _Please_." Dick exhales, breath shaky and crumbling. "I thought you were better than that, Tim. Why would Jason be out there? There was barely anything left of his body to bury."

"The...the facial recognition software, it matched his face to the database -"

"You can't rely on technology all the time, Tim. Use your common sense." Dick turns away abruptly, trying to stitch the pieces of himself back together. "Look, I gotta go. Starfleet needs me on a diplomacy mission. I'll catch up with you another time, okay?"

"Dick!" calls Tim desperately. He tries to move, but his legs feel like they're rooted to the rooftop paneling. "Please! I swear I'm not lying!" He drags one leaden leg forward, but he's too late. Gotham's dark clouds envelop Dick's retreating back. Tim stretches out his hand to call him back, but the heavens swallow him whole too until there's nothing else that Tim can see but darkness and the lonely stars.

Tim wakes up to the unsettling feeling of cold sweat on his brow and his alarm chiming urgently. He stirs fitfully, reluctant to crawl out of bed.

"Lights, forty percent," Tim mumbles. He fumbles for his datapad, cursing when he nearly knocks it onto the floor. The indifferent lights blink on as he squints at the time. He's slept for a solid six hours, but it feels like he's barely slept a wink. As his datapad turns on, he flicks through the files he's brought with him regarding Teritan. He's memorized most of it already, but it doesn't hurt to review it a second time.

Teritan is a class M Planet capable of sustaining carbon-based life, if only barely. Some years ago, scientists used to argue that it was borderline class H, due to the arid desert conditions. However, despite its high temperatures and dense atmosphere, life _had_ thrived for the most part. The dominant species of Arsans had only very recently obtained warp drive and it was a delicate balance of planet wide politics that Tim was hurling himself into at warp speed.

They always did say the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

His clock chides him one final time before he rolls himself out of his bed with a short grumble. After tugging on his last clean shirt, Tim enters the cockpit with a tray of food from the replicator. Red Robin chimes its greetings as Tim slips into the captain’s chair, pulling up the captain’s log.

“Stardate 4243.4,” Tim starts as he tucks into his food with gusto. Red Robin chastises him as he spins in his chair once before resuming. “We are approaching Teritan and should enter its orbit soon. In the nearby asteroid field we discovered the wreckage of an old Earth space shuttle and recovered a cryopod containing one survivor. Coordinates of the wreck have been forwarded to Starfleet for recovery.” Tim hesitates here, taking a sip of his replicated Augri tea. “I have decided against opening the cryopod. The Merida lacks the medical capabilities needed to accommodate cryogenic patients. Secondly, the patient in question may have been improperly cryogenized. It would be best to find a specialist to supervise the thawing process. Lastly…” Tim takes another sip of his coffee. “Given the estimated age of the spacecraft, I suspect his body may lack the immune response and antibodies capable of defending itself against the plethora of pathogens prevalent in interplanetary travel.” Tim pauses to consider his next words, but decides against recording them. “We are going dark,” he finishes abruptly. He signs off.

_Beep_. Red Robin chimes at him.

“ _I_ thought I was concise,” he protests at the droid. “No one asked you, either,” Tim adds petulantly as he polishes off the rest of his food. Red Robin issues a flurry of _du-boops_ at him that Tim ignores. Shoving his tray to the side, Tim contemplates the navigation path Red Robin had chosen in his absence.

“Shall we go over the plan?” he asks, drawing up the star map. “We’ll enter the atmosphere at 0400 hours. Arsans are mostly nocturnal, so it’ll give us time to get our bearings.”

_Bleep du-bo-beep?_ The droid looks at him inquisitively and pauses in its navigation.

Tim sighs. “Technically, landing on Teritan isn’t in violation of the Prime Directive since the Arsans are not a pre-warp civilization and most of its society is aware of extraterrestrials. That being said, only the governing body is aware of the existence of the Federation as it controls all space travel and research and keeps a tight lid on galactic communications. Regardless…we’re violating the Prime Directive _anyway_ since we’re interfering in the event of a natural disaster.”

_Booop beep boop._

“You’re right, _technically_ the Prime Directive doesn’t apply since we’re not Starfleet.” Tim chews his bottom lip like its the entire regulation handbook. (He thinks Bart may have done it on a wild night out back in their cadets days, but his memory of the night is largely fuzzy. Probably for the best.) “But it’s still probably best if we minimize contact where possible, which is where you come in.”

Red Robin swivels to stare at him judgmentally. The droid doesn’t even have to say anything for Tim to know what it wants to say.

“Yes, I _know_ I’m introducing foreign flora into their ecosystem without full knowledge of the potential consequences on Teritan’s environment,” huffs Tim in frustration as he checks that the Merida is cloaked. “But there are people dying out there and they need help. Maybe I might be doing more harm than good in the long run, but at the very least it’s a sustainable food source that will save _someone_.” Tim guns his thrusters, typing in the sequence to shift to warp six. “If Starfleet is refusing to act, that doesn’t mean _I_ can’t. The drought is predicted to last for six generations of Arsans. Our contact said that there were already reports of famine in some regions and conflicts erupting over water sources. I’m not backing out now.”

The stars blur into white lines as the _Merida_ zips past them, twinkling beams of warmth in the canvas of space. Tim chances a glance at the lonely cryopod sitting in the back of the cockpit near the wall, hooked by a jumble of cords and still running. “We go in, handover the wheat at the drop point, and get out. They’re not the only people who need our help.” The droid beeps at him reluctantly, but swivels around to monitor the ship's systems. Tim sighs, draping himself back in the captain's chair. Their destination is a tiny pinprick of light in front of them, just marginally brighter than the other stars. In a matter of moments Tim knows it'll become a red-tinged planet, flushed with orange-yellow hues and earthy streaks of land. The Merida flies silently through the empty vacuum of space until it drops out of warp, landing directly in front of the planet.

The sight is more beautiful than the photos. The _Merida_ stops a safe distance away from being pulled into orbit as Tim surveys the gorgeous planet. Some patchy regions of dull green dot its landscapes, and there are few major bodies of water that Tim can spot from his view above the world. The geography is hazy with dense atmospheric but wispy clouds which blur its brown and yellow deserts into a purple-tinged haze, the planet awash with the morning light of the star which it orbits. From his vantage point, Tim can't help but be excited to see the sky from the ground of a distant world once more. It never gets old.

The data files had added that Arsans had six cones in their retinas, allowing them to see color beyond the scope of the human spectrum. Tim idly wishes he could see the Teritan sunrise through their eyes and wonders what sort of names they had for colors beyond his imagination.

However, there's not much time to waste as Tim carefully pilots his ship towards Teritan, setting coordinates towards the drop point. He's calculated the trajectory so that the _Merida_ is entering the atmosphere from the farthest point away from the crude space station orbiting Teritan to minimize the risk detection, if only slightly. The droid beeps in annoyance at him. "It's a great plan," mutters Tim under his breath, but he can't blame Red Robin.

After all, masking your presence by pretending to be a flaming meteor breaking through the atmosphere wasn't exactly the best situation for masking your presence on an alien planet.Ideally, Tim would have beamed himself down, but the Merida sadly lacked a transporter and it would be a few hundred million credits before he could afford one. A notification pops up on his screen, flashing orange for danger. _Interdiction detected_ , the computer reads out. _Interdiction detected._

"What the-" Red Robin bleeps at him as it swivels towards its control seat. "But we're cloaked-" the alarm rings urgently at Tim, cutting him off.

" _Shit_ ," mutters Tim vehemently. On the scanner, there's another ship approaching them at a rapid speed from behind. Gunning the controls, Tim pilots away from Teritan, wheeling around to face the unknown ship and dropping cloaking. Teritan's the only planet in this system capable of sustaining life, and its spaceships were rudimentary things at best—what was this one doing so far out? The ship is a streamlined fighter, built for speed and accuracy, all sharp angles and endowed with turrets and cannons. It doesn't look look a law enforcement ship or a passenger ship.

He doesn't want to make any hasty decisions, but if his presence here has already been compromised Tim suspects he might have to abort the mission. True, there was a small handful of other independent spacecrafts and volunteer groups covertly providing support to Teritan through parachute drops or beaming down supplies, but it didn't explain the interdiction.

"Scan the ship," he demands as Red Robin whirs into action. The fighter circles him, never staying still for a moment. Tim contemplates heading back to the asteroid field, but he's come too far to back out now. For his particular mission, Tim had modified the Merida to carry as much grain as possible. It's likely that the starship is lighter, faster, and better armed than him. Whoever it is has probably been stalking him shortly after he had left the asteroid field. As the fighter zips around, Tim sees a flash of red on its wings, two irregular splashes of paint dried into a ragged X.

He contemplates hailing the other ship, but the other ship doesn't seem interested in talking. Most law enforcement ships would have signaled within a thirty second window once he had dropped the cloak.

Gunning the thrusters, Tim heads away from Teritan. If it ends up in a fight, so be it, but Tim's been outgunned before and lived to tell the tale. Red Robin is having difficulty locking on the ship with how it's dancing circles around the Merida, but scanning the unknown vessel is the least of Tim's worries right now. Tim veers when the fighter zips ahead of him to an abrupt stop, forcing him to swerve abruptly. It's taunting them purposefully.

He scowlswhen the Merida alerts him that the fighter has successfully scanned his ship's cargo. A few seconds pass, but the fighter doesn't show any intention of relenting. He doesn't have any clue as to why the fighter still wants the grain, but good captains had been killed in space for less.

The communications line rings.

"Open the line," demands Tim shortly. A series of short beeps herald an audio-only message.

_"_ _We can do this the hard way or the easy way_ _,_ " recites an electronically scrambled voice. Tim narrows his eyes, squinting at the fighter that's now paused in its movements as if it's trying to predict Tim's next move. " _Drop your cargo now_ _._ _I won't ask again._ "

"You've picked the wrong ship to mess with," Tim snaps, firing up his thrusters.  _Bleep du-bop._ Red Robin successfully scans the other ship, sending Tim the information. The fighter is a stolen FXJ-153 vessel called the _Persei_ _._ The vessel type is famous for its agility in the Federation. Tim also suspects with relative certainty that it's been equipped with illegal modifications for interception.

" _Then prepare to be boarded,"_ the voice says with an audible arrogance that's clear despite its tinny quality. The communications line shuts off before Tim can say anything else.

The fighter probably thinks the _Merida_ will be easy prey, but Tim's prepared to prove him wrong as he veers towards Teritan again. He dips below the _Persei_ , plunging down into a bottomless sea of stars and dodging when the fighter opens fire on him. A hail of lasers follow his path as he wheels around, the starship in hot pursuit. It's hard to lock in on the fighter. Tim is forced into a rapid pace of evasive maneuvers, gritting when he feels some of the lasers strike the _Merida's_ shields.

_Shield integrity at eighty-five percent_ , reports the computer. Tim pulls up, but the _Persei_ has the higher position as it doggedly follows him from above. Tim's pursuer is experienced, probably a grifter hiding out in a non Federation star system until his bounty was lifted or forgotten. Which means he's been preying on other volunteer ships who can't rely on law enforcement spacecrafts for assistance in this star system. It doesn't matter. Tim spirals away as the barrage of lasers intensifies. The _Merida_ can take stronger hits than the fighter, but her shields won't last forever as Tim leads the _Persei_ on a jagged dance through space.

He swerves around, but he's a second too late. The fighter dive bombs him, swooping low in an aerial pass that nearly blindsides Tim. The _Merida's_ shields buckles under the heavy fire, flickering slightly under the close range of fire.

_Shield integrity at sixty-eight percent._ Tim speeds up and swoops over Teritan's curvature, rolling in a reverse loop until the fighter is in his line of sight. Red Robin beeps in alarm as its suspended in mid air for the briefest of moments as they flip upside down. The _Merida's_ movements are encumbered by the weight of its cargo, but Tim is bought time when the enemy fighter is blinded by the rising sun peaking over Teritan. Completing the loop, Tim swoops down upon the _Persei_ , now on the offensive as Red Robin fires.

The _Merida_ may not have been built for battles, but she still packed a hard punch. Her turrets fire on the _Persei_ , in slower, medium bursts that drain the fighter's shields quickly. However, with a speed that Tim is grudgingly impressed by, the _Persei_ recovers rapidly, yawing to starboard and coasting past the _Merida_ , diving and pressing Tim back onto the defensive with rapid bursts of fire.

Tim zooms past Teritan, focused on the skirmish at hand. If he can trick the _Persei_ into thinking it had the advantage, he can lure it into Teritan's gravitational pull and-

A shadow falls over his ship. Tim veers sharply to port, rolling over until his line of sight is clear. His jaw drops. Above them, a massive ship ominously drops out of warp speed just above the _Persei_ and the _Merida._ It's larger than Starfleet's flagship _Justice,_ easily dwarfing the two smaller ships.

The fighter pulls to an emergency stop, coming too close to the unknown ship. It's not a law enforcement vessel, and it's not like any ship Tim has ever seen before. The hair on his arms stand on end, all senses screaming danger. The fighter flips around, evidently to flee the star system as Tim fires up his thrusters to escape as well. The strange ship glows eerily. Red Robin beeps warningly, but it's too late. A powerful energy beam envelops the _Merida_ , freezing it in place.

"Shit," curses Tim, testing the thrusters. They don't respond. "Red Robin, see if you can get a good shot on its generators." He stares helplessly at the massive spaceship as it creeps to them slowly. The fighter had narrowly escaped the tractor beam and it flies a safe distance away. It rotates around to assess the scene, considering its next move.

Tim opens a communications line towards the new ship, preparing for the worst."This is star vessel Merida, calling large vessel bearing ninety-six degrees range 1.3 kilometers from my position, disengage," He shouts. "I repeat, disengage!" He glances desperately towards the fighter.The fighter's thrusters blaze brightly, having made its decision.The _Persei_ shifts into warp, disappearing from sight as quickly as it had come. There's no response from the strange ship as it advances slowly on the _Merida_. Panels slowly open from the hull of the new ship, lowering a cannon that's aimed directly at the _Merida_.

A sudden desperate _bleep_ emits from Red Robin as it scans the weapon protruding from the unknown ship. Tim whirls around, aghast at what the droid is suggesting. "That's ridiculous," mutters Tim. "That wouldn't even work, our shields are designed to cope with EMP radiation-" He swallows as the cannon charges, lights appearing as a gauge on its length as Tim internally counts down to the inevitable blast. The cannon takes aim, Tim bracing himself when the cannon fires. Yet there's no sound, no rattling of ship debris or even a tiny explosion. Instead, the Merida's shields fizzle off, shut down forcefully without warning.

_Beep bleep beeeep bee bee boo beeep_. Red Robin is clearly rattled, reporting that it felt the surge of an EMP pulse shattering the _Merida's_ shields, but Tim's too bewildered as he struggles to raise them once more.

"I repeat, disengage!" calls Tim, gunning his thrusters to no avail. He feels the engine shudder underneath him, but the Merida remains suspended in the tractor beam. "Do not fire! We have a patient on board, _do not fire_!" Tim rushes out of the captain's chair, as Red Robin fires a warning shot. The turret delivers a glancing blow off the strange ship's shields, but barely scratches it. The droid chirps frantically.

"Red Robin, I need you to stall, and if you can distract it and stop the tractor beam, get us into warp," orders Tim frantically. He sprints to Jason's cryopod, grabbing his toolkit and sliding to a stop on his knees to strip away the wiring. "I gotta get him out of this."

_Beep beep bo du boo beep!_

"If that's really a modified shutdown pulse like you said, I'm not taking a chance. It ripped through the shields like they were putty. Red, I need you to distract it. If we get hit by that thing and Jason's in this when it happens-" Tim rips open the paneling, pressing the buttons rapidly as he disconnects the relevant power circuits. Inside, Jason's slumbering face is peaceful, the man blissfully unaware of the dire situation they're in. Red Robin beeps urgently, opening fire with missiles that don't even dent the strange ship's shields. Whatever technology the vessel is using, it's not anything Tim is familiar with, and that's deeply worrying.

The ship's cannon glows violet again as it charges up one more time, bathing the Merida's interior and Tim's desperate profile in eerie, menacing light. There's no time. "I'm sorry," gasps Tim. In a single moment, he rips the wiring from the cryopod entirely, disconnecting its power supply from the ship. "Red Robin, emergency protocol CKJ8-01V!" Red Robin powers off abruptly as the pulse rips through the Merida's systems, disrupting them. Tim clenches his eyes shut as he throws himself onto the floor, away from the cryopod and anything metal as the systems are overloaded, sparks flying from the ship's electrical system. The lights sputter out, submerging them in violet light then darkness.

The first two things Tim realizes is that he's floating, and that he's uninjured. Opening his eyes, Tim looks around. The gravity controls have obviously been disrupted. Red Robin floats soundlessly, having powered off before the pulse had the chance to permanently disable the droid. He twists around to face the cockpit window before starting in surprise.

The alien ship is gone. There's no sign of the monstrous ship that had had the hapless  _Merida_ in its clutches only moments before.

"What the hell." Tim exhales sharply. He twists around, formulating a plan of action. Jason's cryopod isn't running. He's got minutes, probably less than that before the lack of oxygen starts causing irreversible brain damage or death. He needs to reactivate Red Robin to see if the droid can restore power to the rest of the ship. Without any control or guidance, the _Merida_ is slowly somersaulting through space with all the functionality of an asteroid, slowly drawn into Teritan's gravitational pull.

Time is ticking down, and Tim spares one last desperate glance towards Jason's cryopod that's slowly tumbling in weightlessness. Red Robin and Jason are at opposite ends of the cockpit, but if Tim doesn't make a decision soon and manually start the auxiliary power, he might kill all of them by hesitating for too long.

"Hang in there, Jason," murmurs Tim, swimming towards Red Robin. "I promise I won't let you down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a reaaallly hard chapter to write, but i hope you all enjoyed it and hopefully there wasn't too much sci fi jargon <3 thank you all for waiting so patiently. For those of you following pirate au, I've finally gotten over my writer's block for it and hopefully I can post an update before real life decides to chew me up for another few months again.
> 
> also quick note, i made a mistake on bruce's rank so for those of you who remember him being a commander, he's actually an admiral lol. (plot reasons)

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and comments always make my day and let me know when a story has merit for being continued :) Hope you liked this!


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